REVIEW: Ani DiFranco and Utah Phillips, Fellow Workers
(Righteous Babe)
- Jon Steltenpohl
When Ani DiFranco first "collaborated" with Utah Phillips, she borrowed a bunch of his concert recordings, picked out the best of his outspoken rants, and set them to a funky beat. The dazzling result was an album called The Past Didn't Go Anywhere. It was both a stunning retrospective of the mind that is Utah Phillips and the songstress that is Ani DiFranco. So, when a new collaboration between the two was announced, it could only be taken as a good sign for the fans of both artists.
The result of their new collaboration turns the tables on the creative process. Where The Past Didn't Go Anywhere was essentially DiFranco working on an archive of Phillips' concerts, Fellow Workers is a Phillips performance with Ani DiFranco and friends adding live accompaniment. Essentially, this is Ani and Utah unplugged. Phillips focuses his topics for Fellow Workers on his core repertoire of Union supporter, establishment debunker and pre-60's counter-culture historian.
He tells stories of people being put down by the proverbial "Man." And in Phillips case, the Man is anyone who'd dare step on your rights and obstruct your freedoms. It's a rhetoric that is used in vain these days, but Phillips tells true cases of discrimination and injustice from the days before World War II. It's refreshing, given the faux efforts of retro-flower power and politically correct speech. He tells of poor folk fighting free speech laws by saying the things they shouldn't, just to get arrested and overflow the jails. He tells the story of Lucy Parsons, a little old lady who was so fed up with the system that she told a crowd of tramps to get their knives and guns and kill the rich. Then, in classic Phillips deadpan, he cracks "Well, she was just pissed! Now, you see, I'm a passivist, but I admire her spunk, by god!"
Obviously speaking to a younger, yet very receptive, audience, Phillips seems invigorated. He teaches and tells of the how's and why's of the labor movements earlier in our century, when they were needed to guarantee an eight hour day and the end of child labor. It's a history rarely taught in our schools since it doesn't portray the USA as "#1"; and it gives the listener a pause. And, with all of these stories in your mind, Phillips makes his point. After a rant on the positive and real impacts of activism in the past, Phillips asks, "Why can't you young people, with all that you've got, do the same thing?" On paper, it seems rather silly, a bit reactionary and definitely stuck in the '60s. But, Phillips is hell bent on reminding us of the abuses that corporations and governments have inflicted on us in the past.
In this context, Ani DiFranco's role in Fellow Workers is somewhat limited. At times, it is a brilliant collaboration. "The Long Memory" is a mournful piece highlighted by guest Dave Pirner's trumpet, and the opening instrumental version of "Joe Hill" sets you up for contemplation and deep topics. "Direct Action" features a tight guitar and a funky beat driven by the synthesizer organ. Unfortunately, the live mixing doesn't always work too well, and, at times, the beat overpowers the simple songs and gristled voice of Phillips.
This album is education first, humor second and music third. In other words, you'll learn and laugh, but you probably won't be putting this album on to sing along with. And, unfortunately, due to Phillips' declining health, recordings such as this are increasingly the only way to hear this legend; piggybacking on the audience of Ani DiFranco is a perfect way to do this. Unfortunately, there will also be some disappointed fans who just don't understand what DiFranco is doing with Phillips. The truth is, it shows DiFranco's heritage of growing up in the folk music community, where Phillips is a legend. So, if you're expecting emotional roller coasters, you won't find any. Instead, you'll get Utah Phillips, a man who wears his passions and emotions out front with a conviction as real and as heartfelt as DiFranco's lyrical work.
